


History

by sparklyfaerie



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-27
Updated: 2012-08-27
Packaged: 2017-11-13 00:39:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/497450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklyfaerie/pseuds/sparklyfaerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a hazard, researching the Doctor. He so often visits periods and places that have cameras.</p>
            </blockquote>





	History

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or anything associated with it. All rights to Doctor Who and affiliated products belong to the BBC and the other proper entities.

She never tells him.

It's a hazard, researching the Doctor. He so often visits periods and places that have cameras. He's almost never at the forefront of the photographs—he's almost always in the background. Identified by historians decades, or even centuries, after the photos were taken.

He gave her eleven pictures of himself—numbered in order of his timestream—in that diary, stating that she would need to know what he looked like if she popped up in a part of his timestream where he was wearing a different face. There were only eleven, he'd said, because he hadn't gotten to the next one, and he would provide her with a photograph as soon as he did.

The first time she'd come across her own face in one of the history books, she'd only just enrolled in the University. It had come as something of a shock to the system, seeing herself in the pictures—some the grainy, black-and-white images of the early days of photography, others sharp and crystal-clear in bright colours.

She remembered thinking,  _how could that be me?_  The last time she'd seen him, she'd poisoned him. Had  _killed_  him. How could she be in that photograph, taken two and a half thousand years ago, smiling? Hand in hand with the Doctor? Leaning against his shoulder? And this one— _kissing_ him! She didn't even  _know_  him!

And then it kept happening. Almost always when she wasn't expecting it—sometimes in class, but usually when she was studying on her own—she would run across a photograph of the Doctor, with herself right by his side. Sometimes smiling, sometimes looking threatening, sometimes just… there.

She never mentions it to the Doctor when he and her parents come around to check in on her. She knows he'd only grin and mutter 'spoilers', and would probably take the books away from her. And she needs them to study, thank you very much.

In her second year, he shows up and tells her to get into the TARDIS for a birthday trip. Perplexed, she obeys, greeted warmly by her parents and towed away by her mother to the wardrobe. "Where are we going?" River asks childishly, disorientated as Amy begins to dig around for something period-appropriate for her to wear. Not that Amy dressing her is anything new; this was common practice back in Leadworth. Except Amy had only ever dressed her friend,  _Mels_ , before. Now that River is officially known to be her daughter, it feels… strange.

"You'll see." Amy grins. "Put this on." She tosses her an outfit, complete with hat and shoes.

"Mid twentieth century." River identifies the design. "Are we going to the nineteen forties?"

Amy sighs fondly. "Right, you study history."

"Actually, we dressed up as nineteen forties women for that play in sixth form." River reminds her. "Remember?"

Amy blinks, frowning. "Right. I forget that was you, sometimes." She admits. "You're so different now." She laughs. "How many women can claim that they went to school with their daughter? Anyway, put that on and I'll help pin back your hair."

A little while later, they're emerging into the console room, looking like they'd just stepped out of a 1940's history book. "So," River repeats her earlier enquiry, "where are we going?"

"Why don't you step outside and see?" The Doctor waves her to the doors of the TARDIS.

Earning encouraging nods from her parents, she carefully pushes the doors open and steps into a different time.

"London, nineteen forty-five!" The Doctor exclaims proudly, sweeping out from behind her. "Looking a bit shabby after the war, but the announcement came three days ago. Good old Winston."

"Do you think he remembers me?" Amy giggles, hanging on to Rory's arm as they stroll through the streets. People on either side of the road stop to greet them happily, jubilant that the destruction has ceased.

The Doctor grins at River's mother. "Oh, Amy—I doubt he'd ever forget you."

* * *

Half an hour later, River is suffering a little culture shock. Sure, she's met Hitler—was  _shot_  by Hitler—but this is  _Winston Churchill_. And the Doctor is chatting away with him as if they saw each other every day of their lives. They talk about the Daleks, and how the Doctor was a devil for not telling Churchill outright that they would win the war.

"Ah, spoilers, Winston." The Doctor winks. "Can't be messing with history, after all. I only stepped in with the Daleks because it was alien. Always knew you'd come out on top."

"Wait, you were here, during the war?" River blurts out, blinking at the Doctor.

"'Course I was. Twice, actually. Once with Rose, but that was out on the streets. One of my old faces. But I was here a few years ago, after I regenerated. So was Amy." The Doctor nods to her, talking to a scientist off to the side with Rory. "Saved the Earth, we did."

Listening to Winston Churchill— _Winston Churchill!_ —praise the Doctor, River makes a mental note to re-check the history books for him.

* * *

They dance.

Amy warns her that the Doctor is a terrible dancer, but River finds that he isn't too bad. He's a little clumsy, but he knows the dances, and he more or less sticks to them. She's alarmed to find herself having  _fun_  with him, switching between dancing with him, with her father, and even with the Prime Minister. She doesn't feel like dancing with anyone else for now, happy to absorb the atmosphere. The university is nice, if stuffy, but it's been a long time since she's been in the middle of a party atmosphere.

She does spend more time on the dance floor than not—and usually with the Doctor. Strangely enough.

* * *

The picture stares back up at her, proof of the outing.

The night the Doctor and her parents drop her back at the University—five bloody minutes after they picked her up!—River digs up images from the celebrations after the end of World War Two.

And there she is, in the background. The photo is of Winston Churchill, dancing with  _her mother_. She can't find her father in the shot, but there _she_  is, dancing with the Doctor in the background. With a smile on her face. Looking… happy.

She glues it into her diary, adding details of the outing underneath.

* * *

Over the next year, she collects the photographs she runs across. There are a lot of them. She keeps them in a folder in her desk, gluing them into her diary after she lives through them—because the Doctor shows up monthly, now, taking her to all sorts of fascinating times and places.

She starts to fall in love with him, running her fingers over the photographs. World War Two. The premiere of the final Harry Potter film. The coronation of King William in 2043. Mardi Gras in New Orleans, 1987. She even glues in a piece of papyrus she'd pilfered from Egypt, when they'd visited Cleopatra.

She's gluing in a picture from the reconstruction of the Empire State Building in 3128 when she realises—all the photos that include her are with the same Doctor. For some reason, she realises, she's never seen with any of the others. Why not? Does she never meet any of them before or after this regeneration? She's seen the Tenth Doctor with other women—people she's looked up in the TARDIS databanks when the Doctor was asleep. Rose Tyler. Martha Jones. Donna Noble. Faces that just pop up in history in no particular order.

She begins to think that the photographs she finds in the books are kind of like a clock, ticking away her time with the Doctor. She's almost deliriously happy when she finds a new one, because it means that she gets just that little bit longer with him. Of course, she knows that they'll more often visit the future, or so far back that cameras didn't exist. And she loves those best, because they are always a surprise.

Still, she enjoys her small spoilers, knowing the Doctor wouldn't get an advantage like that. And, honestly, she likes being a part of history before watching it come to life before her eyes.


End file.
